Bored

I have lists of things to do,

lists I’m working through.

Still,

I’m bored.

I like my life

as mom and wife.

Still,

I’m bored.

I love my husband, children, pets.

I live my life with no regrets.

Still,

I’m bored.

Is that why the dogs run out the front door?

They are waited on, and well cared for.

Are they also

bored?

Pacing my cage.

A need to engage?

The lion

roared.

Put me on a chain.

Take me out of the mundane.

I should be satisfied

My life has no downside.

Still,

I’m bored.

Help me fix this restlessness.

Guide me with strength and gentleness.

Teach me ways to placate boredom,

and allay my psychic tedium.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Guitar Painting

16"x40" commissioned guitar painting, 

reminiscent of Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones guitar.

Wistfully

washing

wee fingerprints

from windows,

wanting them,

like Peter Pan,

to never grow up.

 by:  Paula D. Nevison

A Knitting Walk

I get a call,

so I stop.

Knitting in one hand

phone in the other.

Knitting and talking

too much bother.

I’m sure my neighbor

thinks I’m crazy,

but at least she

can’t call me lazy.

Put my phone

back in my pocket.

Need both hands

to knit this blanket.

Clip clop,

Flip flop,

Knit purl,

Around the block.

The light

is waning.

My eyes

are straining.

I should really stop,

but knitting is fun,

I need this walk,

and I am almost done.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

I smell fresh cut grass

in the cool morning air.

I breathe in deep,

smile,

and wonder...

Why is this a good smell?

by:  Paula D. Nevison

A Birthday at the Zoo

My kids played with the kangaroos.

The big black bear slept.

It rained at the zoo,

and made everything wet.

The lemurs crawled

on my girls’ heads.

The soaked llama’s hair

looked like it had dreads.

The kookaburra laughed

at Opa’s jokes.

My grandchildren gave

the tortoise strokes.

The possum walked

across the rope.

I drew a sketch

of the antelope.

The parrot talked,

she said, “Hello.”

The lion roared

a loud bellow.

The velociraptor

stood stone still.

The alligator went

under water to chill.

The path was deep

beneath a puddle.

My husband carried

me across the muddle.

Somehow it rained

in the bright shining sun.

It didn’t matter to us.

My family had fun.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Rock Music Calm

I turn on loud hard rock music

to drown out that part of my brain

that has conversations with nobody,

that wanders towards being insane.

I need to engage

with something that’s real.

Connect motion with thought,

that would be my ideal.

Go for a walk, not alone.

Talk to a person I can actually see,

even my grandson,

though he’s only three.

Push him in his stroller

‘til I’m feeling half dead.

Do the laundry, the dishes,

or bake some fresh bread.

Interact, not visualization.

Get out of my head.

Look at the clouds, and

paint their pictures instead.

Help my grandson ride his new bike.

Take a breath, and stretch. Make a list.

Meet my husband

for an afternoon tryst.

I need something. I need it right now.

And until I know what IT is,

screaming music will calm

my daydream dementia lunatic schiz.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Scammers

Scammers seem to be everywhere.

“hello

Hello???

How are you doing?

Where are you located?"

He seems to be following a script.

“Are you married?

How many children do you have?

I’m a widower with only one kid.

My wife died of cancer when my daughter was young.”

There’s always a terrible story.

Hopefully that part is untrue.

“What’s your favorite color?

What’s your favorite food?

What religion are you?”

Like he’s actually interested.

Like these questions are relevant,

now exploiting my ingrained etiquette.

“What do you do for a living?

What do you drive?

Do you own a house, or rent?”

A few moments later

he asks something again,

having not read my responses,

trying to get to the end,

weasel into my sympathies,

judge me for my answers,

reprimand with reproach, to

make me second guess myself,

elaborate, justify, get emotional,

and prove I am a good person,

by agreeing to help

with some time sensitive tragedy.

What if this is actually true?

What if he really does need help?

Am I being a bad person?

No.

Not just no,

but an emphatic NO!

You can’t send me money.

You can’t have my bank account number.

You say it won’t cost me anything,

that I’ll be helping my brother.

YOU ARE A LIAR.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Vociferous Cat

I got an early text.

The cat mistook it for my alarm.

She’s meowing for breakfast.

Glarm!!! “Cat!” Now I have to get up.

Not wearing my glasses,

I look out the back window.

A fire in the distance?

I can’t tell through the trees,

so I put on my jeans,

and go out front to view.

The sun is rising,

brilliant orange this morning.

Clouds above are dark blue.

No school.

I’m going back to bed.

Vociferous cat.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

I Want Something

I want something.

I don’t know what it is.

I’m not hungry.

I don’t need a drink.

I’ve had my caffeine,

but I’m right on a brink.

I need it badly,

this unidentified thing.

I need it right now!

This is freaking me out!

I’m coming unglued.

This need is about?!

I don’t understand.

I called my husband.

He knows what to do.

I freaked him out too.

He dropped everything

and now is en route.

There is nothing wrong,

and nothing I actually need.

Nothing has happened,

not out of the ordinary.

I’m completely confused,

the start of scary.

I want something.

I don’t know what it is.

Don’t stop for candy.

Don’t buy me a drink.

I don’t know what I want.

I’m right on the brink.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

An Alligator Opportunity

An alligator

laying in the weeds,

posing perfectly,

silently asleep.

Painting en plein air,

birds’ song in the breeze,

sun glistening off

his pointy pearl teeth.

Is there another one,

one who’s watching me,

an alligator

opportunity?

by:  Paula D. Nevison 

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